Getting to Know You
by Mariel1
Summary: What happens when two people who usually prefer their own company find out that they actually have a lot in common? When Dr. Jaming and Meredith first met, they didn't exactly hit it off. Soon after that, however, they became an unlikely pair of friends. This story fills in some of the gaps left by the time jumps I made in "Inventing the Future".
1. Chapter 1: New Neighbors

"Getting to Know You"

_Author's Note:__ This is a companion piece to "Inventing the Future", and it mainly serves to fill in a few time gaps. Jaming and Meredith were just friends for a time before they became a couple, but since I'm writing that other story as it comes to me, I didn't get to explore that as much as I wanted to. Rather than jumping around the timeline, I decided to put these interactions in a separate story._

_Small reference to Chapter 22 of WanderingSoulofTime's 'D is for Dark Cloud', specifically Donny's bracelet purchase. Hope you guys enjoy it!_

"Chapter 1: New Neighbors"

If there was one thing that Dr. Jaming knew how to do very well, other than inventing, it was tracking down the materials he needed for such endeavors. He was fortunate enough to already have the blueprints of his old garage in his portfolio, so it was simply a matter of gathering the materials and doing what needed to be done.

Getting the building tools he needed, though? That was another story. He was sure he had enough money to buy some of them, but this meant venturing into town. So far, he had only met one person since getting his rear end handed to him at the far-away beach called Shigura Village; a woman named Meredith had shared her lunch with him, probably out of pity, but at the time he had been too hungry to care.

She had been friendly enough, but he hadn't quite considered her a _friend,_ and he hadn't seen her since that day. He _did_ find it curious that she didn't seem to find his facial features as disturbing as most people did.

So far, finding food in Veniccio wasn't all that difficult, but Jaming was getting extremely tired of a straight diet of fruit. And, if he was embarrassingly honest about it, his gut wasn't too fond of it either. Perhaps he could buy some bread or cheese in town, or maybe even some fish.

_'It doesn't matter if they stare. Just go in, get what you need, and get out. They won't chase you out of town if you don't actually _live_ in town, so stop being such a coward.'_

Jaming stuffed his wallet into one of his many pockets, buttoned the pocket closed so that there would be no danger of losing it either through pickpockets or simple accident, and approached the Veniccio docks.

The first person Jaming saw was a withered old lady sitting outside of one of the metal houses. Unsurprisingly, the old woman did a double-take when she saw him, but he was rather taken aback when she smiled and raised a hand to wave at him.

"Good morning, young man. New in town, are you?" Her voice was hoarse with age, but warm and friendly.

"Er...good morning, ma'am," He bowed, feeling extremely uncomfortable. His eyes darted away from her, then back, almost as if she frightened him. "Would you happen to know where I might buy some supplies?"

"Oh, yes. Young Donny lives in the blue house over there. He will sell you bread, if you need it. And if you'll look over there," She pointed, and he followed the direction of her crooked arthritic finger. "There are two shop boats. The one on the left sells mostly trinkets and such. And the one on the right carries more practical items. As for myself, I sell cheese and amulets. In fact, wait there a minute."

Jaming eyed the old lady mistrustfully as she went inside and came back out with a covered basket. She held it out to him, and he clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head. "I don't understand..."

Chuckling at his shyness, the old lady held the basket further away from herself, clearly wanting him to take it. "It won't bite you, sonny. It's cheese. Normally I would charge you for this, but you may consider it a welcome to the neighborhood present, compliments of Granny Rosa."

"I-I can't accept this..." Jaming took an uncertain step backwards. Why was she just _giving _this to him? He hadn't done anything to deserve it! "I can pay for it."

"Nonsense, I insist. I do this for every newcomer. You don't want to hurt an old woman's feelings, do you?"

"No, of course not," he mumbled, reluctantly accepting the basket and bowing once again. He wasn't used to the warm feeling that slowly spread through his chest, and he wasn't entirely sure that he liked it. "Thank you very much, ma'am."

"Just call me Granny Rosa. Everyone does."

Jaming _definitely_ wasn't comfortable with calling a stranger 'Granny', so he gave her his name instead. "I'm called Jaming. Thanks again."

He walked quickly away from her without waiting for her to speak again, heading directly for the shop boats. Which one had Granny Rosa told him carried trinkets, and which one carried necessities? Jaming couldn't remember, but he supposed that he might as well check out both of them.

It was pure chance that led Janing to the shop boat on the left, and even though he immediately realized that this wasn't the boat he was looking for, he halted at the sight of a familiar face. Unfortunately, he was blocking the gangplank, and someone coming up behind shoved past him with a muttered insult. Jaming turned to glare at the burly man who had pushed him, and the man took a startled step back.

"What _are _you?"

Jaming bit back an acidic retort and bowed in apology. "Someone who thoughtlessly blocked the way. Excuse me."

He was used to showing submission to rude strangers in order to diffuse a situation and save his own behind, but he hated it every time. Fortunately, the stranger moved off, and Jaming breathed a sigh of relief as he moved to stand well out of the way.

It seemed that Meredith lived in or near Veniccio after all, because she was working at one of the tables that sat nearest to the gangplank. Right now she was arguing with a young boy who wore a rather strange-looking floppy hat with a flower stuck in its brim. Jaming moved on, perusing the other tables without much interest; he had little use for the things he saw there, and it was only the conversation he was eavesdropping on that held his attention.

"You want _how _much for twenty of those seashell bracelets?" the boy sounded outraged, but something about his tone of voice indicated that he was enjoying himself. "I could just find the shells out on the beach and make 'em myself!"

"You're more than welcome to," Meredith replied, playing _her _part as well.

It occurred to Jaming that they were engaging in the common market practice of haggling. The seller will quote a rather high price, knowing that the buyer will try to get them to lower the price no matter what it happened to be, and the agreed upon sum would be pretty close to how much the item was _actually_ worth. He didn't understand why people bothered with such nonsense, but like many of the things having to do with socializing, it was a mystery to him.

Meredith continued, "Finding the shells is the easy part. Then you have to drill a hole if one doesn't already exist. You have to do it without breaking the shell, which isn't easy, and sometimes it just happens no matter what. _Then _you have to thread them onto a string and attach jewelry clasps to the ends. See, you're not just paying for the materials; you're paying for the time it took to make the items."

"I know, I know. But I'm not about to pay fifty Gilda just for _twenty_ of the things!" Donny folded his arms.

"I see," Meredith nodded smoothly, leaning forward and folding her hands on the table. "How much _are_ you willing to pay?"

"Twenty."

"Goodbye, Donny." She began to turn away from him. Jaming found himself fighting off an amused smile as Donny nearly bounced up and down in agitation. The boy really wanted those bracelets! But why?

"Twenty-_five_."

"For something you're just going to re-sell at twice the price? Not a chance."

Donny groaned, his posture hunched as he buried his face in his hands. Then he straightened up, looking completely unphased after all that, and adjusted his hat. "Thirty."

Meredith's expression gave away nothing as she countered, "Forty-five."

"Forty, final offer!"

She eyed Donny for a few seconds as if considering, then nodded her head in acceptance. "Done."

Jaming snickered as the boy she had called Donny handed over forty Gilda, and he watched her put the bracelets into a paper bag and hand them over. The kid was obviously a shrewd little businessman on the rise, but Meredith seemed to have his number!

"Thank you for your business. Have a nice day."

"Yup, you too!" Donny grinned cheerfully and ran off with his prize.

Jaming drummed his fingers on the boat's thick wooden railing as Meredith picked up something she must have been working on before Donny came by to get his bracelets. A closer look told Jaming that she was making something out of what seemed to be cotton yarn and a metal hook. Another look told him exactly what she was making; in addition to seashell jewelry, she also had a small assortment of mesh tote bags nearby. It wasn't really his style, but he considered purchasing one anyway for easy fruit storage.

"Keep staring," Meredith sang out without looking up, "I might do a trick."

Jaming started guiltily, then ran a hand through his blue spiky hair as he blushed. "My apologies. I was merely curious about what you were making. Sorry if I disturbed you."

He began to move off, but halted when she called after him.

"Sorry, that was rude on my part. I don't always know how to start a conversation, so sometimes I'll just crack a joke to break the ice." She explained.

"Oh," he shrugged, nervously drumming his fingers on the railing again. "No, don't worry about it."

Meredith tucked a lock of auburn hair behind her ear; she was wearing it down today. "I remember you. Jaming, wasn't it?"

He nodded uncertainly, wearing his best poker face as he approached her table. "That's right. Um...how much for one of those bags, Meredith?"

She grinned. Most people didn't remember her name until they had heard it a few times. "Five Gilda is the going rate, but they aren't selling so well at the moment. You can just take one, if you like."

Jaming resolutely took five Gilda from his wallet and laid it on the table, reluctant to risk accidentally touching her hand. Or, to be more accurate, he was reluctant to let _her_ touch _him_. It was rare for a person to treat him like a human being before they really got to know him, and he didn't want to ruin it by causing her any kind of disgust. He tried not to notice that she raised her eyebrow at this; she had put out her hand to accept his payment, and he wondered if his refusal to allow physical contact had insulted her. He cleared his throat as he grabbed a random tote bag. "Um...sorry. I..."

She dropped the money in her cash box, and she was smiling gently. "Please, stop apologizing so much. You're fine."

"Well...thank you." He stuffed the tote bag into one of his pockets, feeling very awkward. He would have left then, but there were people standing directly in the way of his escape route. He couldn't help but notice that nobody shoved _them_ out of the way.

"Thank _you._ So, tell me, are you living in Veniccio now? I haven't seen you around, so I thought you'd left the area."

"I live in one of the abandoned tree houses for now. I just came into town to buy supplies. Speaking of which, does anyone around here sell tools?" More and more people came on board, and Jaming began to feel like he wasn't getting enough air.

"Ah, we're neighbors, then. I live in the tree house closest to the beach. What kind of tools are you looking for? Could you be more specific?"

Jaming stepped aside as a group of people came by to peruse the shell jewelry. He was no longer a customer, so he should really be going. "For construction. I'm building a garage..." The people took one look at him and moved off again. _Damn._ Meredith was trying to help him out, and in return he had cost her some potential business!

Meredith didn't seem to notice this, though. "I don't think there's anyone here in town who _sells_ that kind of thing. But if you don't need them right this minute, I could lend you mine after work."

"What would _you_ be doing with something like that?" Jaming asked, curious. Then he realized that he was prying, and he looked away. "Not that it's any of my business..."

"I'm from a family of carpenters. I inherited a bunch of tools, but I'm not a carpenter myself, so they're just collecting dust these days. It'll be nice to see them getting some use for once."

Jaming finally allowed himself a little smile. "That is most appreciated. Thank you."

* * *

_'Thirty Gilda for one loaf of bread? That Donny person is no mere boy. He's a shark!'_

Jaming had spent the day familiarizing himself with the town so that he wouldn't get lost the next time he needed to buy something, and the other shop boat had a lot more to offer, at least in terms of things that he could actually use. He now knew where to obtain scrap metal, hunks of copper, lumber, and anything else he would need for his garage. In fact, he had gotten so caught up in what he was doing that by the time he remembered he was supposed to meet Meredith under her tree house to pick up those tools, it was nearly dark.

Loaded down with groceries, Jaming sprinted for the cover of the palm trees, earning many a curious glance from the tourists and townsfolk, but he was too late. Meredith had long since closed her table and gone home, and the windows of her tree house were dark. Jaming was both disappointed and ashamed, and rather than bother her now, he trudged the rest of the way home.

It was so dark that he didn't see the tool box sitting underneath his tree house until he was almost right on top of it. In addition to this, there was a hand saw, several boxes of various-sized nails, and a note weighted down by a tape measure.

"Hm?" Jaming picked up the note and unfolded it, but he couldn't read it out there. He climbed the ladder, planning to make use of the small pulley system he had rigged up to lift heavy or large objects into the tree house. Before he retrieved the tools, he turned on the light and sat down to read the note.

_'Dear Jaming,_

_Guess who? I'm sorry I couldn't wait for you, but here are the tools I promised. You can hold on to these indefinitely. If I ever need them back, I'll know where to look. By the way, I've also returned your five Gilda to you. Please don't be offended, but I don't feel right about keeping it. _

_Anyway, welcome to Veniccio! I hope you like it here._

_-Meredith'_

Jaming folded the note once more, a completely open and honest smile coming to his face for the first time in what felt like years.

_'I could be mistaken, but I think I actually have a friend!'_


	2. Chapter 2: Grouch

"Getting to Know You"

_Author's Note:__ I'm sooo sorry, Jaming! I blame this one on too much caffeine._

"Chapter 2: Grouch"

Jaming was _not _having a good day! To begin with, he overslept and lost about three hours of work time. On his way from his bed to his table, he tripped over his discarded shoes and fell flat on the floor. He burned his breakfast, but forced himself to eat it anyway. He tripped again as he got up to clear the table, and he thought he heard an odd ripping sound, but he couldn't pinpoint it. Deciding that it didn't matter, he got up again and headed for the tree house's trapdoor. He climbed down and found that the framework of his garage was crawling with dozens of enormous banana slugs. "Ohhh...yecch!" He stuck out his tongue and shuddered. And the worst was yet to come.

While Jaming was using a giant fern to brush the slimy things from his project, grumbling all the while and trying not to heave, Meredith chose that moment to drop by.

"Oh, I see you've been accosted, too. The little buggers are all over my windows," she made a face.

Jaming spared her the briefest of glances; he was in no mood for company after the morning he'd had. "Disgusting creatures. What purpose could they _possibly_ serve?"

"I think they're the 'garbage men' of the animal kingdom."

"Yes, well, let them eat garbage, then! My garage is not garbage. It's not even a _garage_ yet, and already they're..." Jaming trailed off when he happened to get a look at Meredith's face. She had one hand over her mouth, her eyes were huge, and she seemed to be trying not to laugh. "What?"

"Um..." Meredith's voice shook a little, and she cleared her throat and looked away. "Sorry to tell you this, but you, uh...split the seat of your pants."

The fern immediately fell from Jaming's grip as he quickly clasped his hands over his backside, and at once he felt what she could see. The seam had split nearly up to his waistband, and a woman he had only seen a few times before had just gotten a very clear view of his underpants! It must have happened when he had fallen down earlier. _'Oh, dear Gods, why?'_

Meredith was once again trying hard not to laugh, and she had kept her gaze averted, but it was far too late for anything she could have done. Jaming, his cheeks nearly purple from the blood that gathered beneath the skin, rounded viciously on her in his humiliation.

"And _what_ were you doing staring at my bottom, may I ask?" Jaming demanded, his hands still clasped firmly over his rear even though he was now facing her directly.

"I wasn't 'staring', I just happened to see!" She held up her hands and took a step back, but she was still having a difficult time controlling her mirth. "Would you rather I _didn't _tell you?"

"I would _rather _you kept your prying eyes to _yourself!_" he yelled, pointing towards Veniccio and glaring at her as if she had just insulted his mother. "Don't you have a table you should be working at?"

The urge to laugh immediately left Meredith, and she frowned at him. "You don't have to yell at me. I'm sorry I embarrassed you, but I thought you'd want to be told. I guess I was wrong."

Jaming put a hand over his face, the other still covering the split in his trousers as he mumbled, "Just...just go. So I can change..."

He heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and he heard how fast they were. He knew that he had overreacted, and he knew that he would have to apologize later on (if she would even talk to him after being yelled at like that!), but for now all he wanted to do was crawl away and die! He didn't look up until the footsteps had faded completely, and a glance told him that it was safe for him to climb the ladder without an audience.

Jaming climbed the ladder in record time, and the roiling maelstrom of frustration that had been brewing since he got up that morning finally exploded. He grabbed the pillow from his bed, smooshed his face into it, and screamed at the top of his lungs into its plush depths.

_'She saw my underwear. And she _laughed!_ Or, rather, she _wanted_ to laugh! I can never look her in the eye after this! How did I not _notice_ it?'_

He unceremoniously tossed the pillow back onto his bed, changed his pants, and climbed back down to get back to the distasteful job of swatting slugs off of his soon-to-be garage.

* * *

Jaming didn't see Meredith for the rest of that day, and he didn't see her for the next two days either. Finally, when his groceries were running extremely low, he realized that he had no choice but to brave the town. With no way of knowing whether or not Meredith had gossipped about his little wardrobe malfunction to anyone else, he found himself analyzing every little glance that was thrown his way.

After buying some more cheese from Granny Rosa and a loaf of bread from Donny, Jaming couldn't take the looks anymore and began to head inland again. Were they looking at him because of what had happened a few days ago, or were they just wondering why he looked like he belonged in a circus?

Out of the corner of his eye, Jaming spotted Meredith walking barefoot along the beach. She seemed to be looking for something. He stopped, curious about what she was doing, and wondered if he dared to approach her after what she had seen and how he had spoken to her. He felt terrible. She really _hadn't _deserved to be yelled at like that, and if she hadn't warned him and he had gone into town like that...

_Ugh..._

Jaming shook off the thought with a shudder, his cheeks warming with new embarrassment over something that hadn't even happened. Then he turned his attention back to Meredith. What in the world was she doing?

As he watched her, she bent down and picked something up, and he saw her dump sand out of a large conch shell before depositing it in one of the mesh bags she had been selling before. _'Ah, so _that's_ what they're for...'_

Meredith turned so that she was facing his direction, made as if to walk forward, then abruptly stopped when she saw him.

Jaming looked away, rubbing the back of his neck as he debated with himself, but when he looked over again he saw that she was walking away.

How long had it been since he'd had a _real_ friend, and not just a work associate? When was the last time someone had talked to him simply because they _wanted _to, or been nice to him just for the sake of being nice? As Jaming pondered this, he realized that the last people who had been really decent to him had been his parents. Then Meredith came along, and just because she had accidentally seen his undergarments he had brutishly chased her off!

He couldn't let this happen. Even if she refused to talk to him after this, he simply had to apologize. Drawing a deep breath to steel himself, Jaming adjusted his pack and jogged to catch up to Meredith.

If she heard him coming, she gave no indication. She was turning a nautilus shell in her hands, and she seemed to be quite fascinated by it.

"Meredith?" Jaming called as he slowed to a walk, a distance of about fifteen feet still stretching between them.

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes wary as she stashed the shell into her beachcomber bag. "Yes?"

Jaming tried to continue, but the words caught in his throat. She almost looked like she was afraid of him! Had he really been that nasty to her?

The silence stretched to an awkward length, and finally she frowned. "Don't stare; I'm not in the mood to do tricks today."

Was that a joke? He thought it might have been, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. He really _must _have hurt her feelings! The shame he felt then was far worse than his embarrassment had been, and he looked down. "Meredith, I'm sorry. I...I was embarrassed before, and...well, I behaved badly. I wouldn't blame you if you never spoke to me again."

Meredith cocked her head, almost as if his confession had surprised her, and then she smiled and shook her head. "Why wouldn't I speak to you again? I'm speaking to you _now,_ aren't I? Look, I would have been embarrassed too. I just haven't come by because I thought you wouldn't want to see me_._"

"I didn't," he admitted, folding his arms and staring out over the ocean with a frown. "but it wasn't because I was angry."

She nodded, her posture much more relaxed now that she knew she wasn't 'in trouble' with him. "I get it. Let's just move on and pretend it never happened, okay?"

"That sounds good to me."

_Pretending_ might be possible, but Jaming had a feeling that this was something he would never forget, whether he wanted to or not.

_Note:__ I considered naming this chapter "I See London, I See France", but London and France don't exist in this game, and besides, that chapter name would have been too long to fit._


	3. Chapter 3: Assistance

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 3: Assistance"

The next day started on a positive note for most of Veniccio, but the weather wasn't agreeing with a certain blue inventor.

"Eight in the morning, and it's already hot," Jaming said to himself as he approached the framework of his garage. He was making good headway, but it was still an awfully big job for just one person. Griffon's soldiers had done most of the physical labor when Jaming's previous garage was built, while he himself had mostly supervised. Nowadays his back and arms hurt from lifting heavy timbers, and he was finding himself more than a little overwhelmed by how much work still needed to be done.

Meredith, on the other hand, was impressed with how much he had gotten done in such a short amount of time, and she told him so.

"Actually, I'm way behind schedule," he demurred, though he was a little flattered just the same. "I'm afraid this isn't a job for one person."

She speculatively eyed the building's skeleton and reached out to touch the rough, unfinished beams with her fingertips before casually asking, "How would it be if a few of us pitched in and helped? Some of the others probably would if you asked them."

Jaming hesitated. He didn't feel comfortable with the idea of being beholden to the townsfolk in any way. If they became too familiar with him and got too curious about his past, things could quickly go from acceptable to horrible. Now that he thought about it, wasn't that risk also there with Meredith? He shook his head and began nailing the planks that would become the side of the building into place. "Please, don't get them involved."

"Why not?"

"I have my reasons. Some of which should be obvious. I'd say 'as plain as the nose on my face', but it isn't really my nose that causes people to recoil."

Meredith removed her hand from the beam she had been leaning on as he moved in with another plank. "You really think we're that shallow?"

Jaming swallowed hard. That squirmy feeling in his belly was most unpleasant. "Not you in particular, but I don't know about the others."

Meredith was curious to know more, but she had the sense to know that it was too soon to ask. She did know a thing or two about low self esteem, and she knew from experience that a little encouragement could go a long way. And besides, even though he had good reason to be suspicious of strangers, she didn't think that he was giving the people of Veniccio a fair chance to prove themselves. "They're basically good people."

Jaming shook his head decisively. He honestly couldn't understand why she bothered at all, and he still half-suspected in the back of his mind that it might be a trick. "No, I can manage."

"Well...what about me, then?"

In the middle of raising his hammer to pound in another nail, he paused to squint dubiously at her. Their friendship was still very new, and he hadn't fully opened up by any means. Still, over the course of his life Jaming got very good at spotting deception, and she seemed to be sincere. He looked at her, considering it, and she showed him a crescent of white teeth as she flashed a wide, cheesy grin. Finally, he chuckled and placed the fist that held the hammer on his hip. "You're a tenacious one, aren't you?"

She seemed to seriously ponder the question, then spread her hands in a wide shrug. "I guess it really depends."

"Well...have you ever done anything like this before?"

"Family of carpenters, remember?" she reminded him, "You'll have to tell me what to do, but I've dabbled a bit."

Jaming felt sorely tempted to take her up on her offer. He could definitely use the help, but he simply wasn't used to people offering it so freely. "I don't want to impose on you, Meredith. What about _your_ work?"

"You're _not_ imposing. I'm _offering._"

The work _would_ go by faster with just one more pair of hands. He thought about sticking to his guns and sending her away, but it occurred to him that he would miss the company. It was _nice_ to have someone to talk to, and over the years he had forgotten just how much he missed that. The realization of just how lonely he really _was_ made her offer just that much more appealing. "Well...if you really want to help, you can hold these planks in place while I hammer."

He forgot to thank her, but by then they were both already in 'work mode'. She held the planks, and he nailed them in place. As they worked, they slipped into easy conversation.

"Why didn't you become a carpenter?" he asked her.

"It didn't really interest me. I like making things, but...well, I prefer to just wing it. When you follow a plan or a blueprint, you can't really do that." She ducked a bit so that her head wouldn't be in his armpit as he hammered in the top nails.

"That's true," he acknowledged, trying not to notice how closely they were standing; his hip accidentally grazed her shoulder, and he stepped sideways to keep a more proper distance between them. He chalked up his discomfort to his limited contact with people so far. "But if you're the one who draws up the blueprints, your creativity can take center stage."

"Well, not really. See, if you're working in the housing industry, such as it is in Palm Brinks, you have to follow a set of guidelines."

"You're from Palm Brinks? That's quite a distance from here."

"Yeahhh..." she drawled, clearly not enthused by the mention of her hometown. "Where are you from?"

"Oh...all over, really." Jaming was reluctant to say more, and he quickly changed the subject. "So, how did you end up crafting jewelry in Veniccio?"

Meredith held another plank up against the beams, stealing a peek at his face. He really didn't want to talk about himself, did he? Well, all right. It was his business. "Well, I didn't start out doing _that._ I'm actually a seamstress, but there are already three of those working on the boats. I mean, who needs that kind of competition?"

"A seamstress, eh?" Jaming raised an eyebrow and said with uncharacteristic good humor, "I wish I'd known that when I ripped my pants!"

"Ahahaha!"

"Heh heh..."

"Well, at least you can joke about it now."

They had a good system going now, and that side of the garage was actually beginning to look a little bit like a wall. "Where did you learn how to make jewelry?"

"It was a hobby of mine. I used to use beads. Here they have seashells, so I played around with a few ideas until I found a formula that worked."

Meredith didn't seem to view this as a big deal, but Jaming smiled in recognition. "So, you're an inventor, then."

"Not hardly!" she actually seemed embarrassed, "I just took what I knew and applied it to something else."

He laughed then, not realizing how nice his laugh sounded when he wasn't trying to sound menacing. "What do you think inventing _is?_ It isn't just limited to technology."

"I don't know," She handed him the last of the nails. "I just thought it was sort of...'mad scientist' kind of stuff."

"Yes...it can be that," He was suddenly serious again, but he covered up his sadness with an air of great concentration. "I need more nails. I'll be back."

Meredith watched him climb the ladder of his tree house, startled by his sudden change in attitude. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that there was something he wasn't telling her. _'Who_ is_ this guy, anyway? Is he some sort of criminal?'_

Jaming came back down with a fresh box of nails, and she noticed that he was no longer making eye contact with her. What had happened? One minute they were having their first decent conversation since they day they first met, and the next he had clammed up again! He resumed his hammering in total silence.

After a while she couldn't stand it anymore, and she asked, "Did I say something wrong earlier?"

"Hm?" He looked over at her, startled, then made up an excuse that wasn't entirely false. "No, no...I think the heat must be affecting me."

"It's probably because you're wearing so much. This isn't really the environment for long sleeves and pants. Hey!" She dodged to the side when he dropped his hammer, but it clipped her shoulder. "Watch what you're doing!"

"I-I'm sorry!" He scrambled to pick up his hammer. Why in the world had he done that? Just because a woman suggested that he wear less clothing didn't necessarily mean she was being inappropriate! And maybe she had a point. He had seen some T-shirts for sale on the shop boats. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to buy a few. He saw that she was still rubbing her shoulder, and he paled. "Did I hurt you?"

"I'm okay," she waved her hand dismissively, and got to her feet. "But maybe I should hammer for a while, and you should hold the planks."

Ordinarily he would insist on doing things his way, but feeling guilty he handed her the hammer. "Don't drop it on my head, okay?"

She winked. "No promises."


	4. Chapter 4: Trust Issues

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 4: Trust Issues"

One morning, when Jaming was perusing the fruit trees for mangoes, he heard Donny and Meredith talking nearby. He turned to go, not wanting them to get the wrong idea, when he heard Donny mention his name.

"You keep going to visit that Jaming guy. What's his deal?"

"His 'deal'? What do you mean?" asked Meredith, sounding very confused.

"Yeah," Donny tried to skip a flat stone across the surface of the ocean, but these weren't the still lake waters of Palm Brinks. The stone skipped once, then bounced into a small breaker and sank to the bottom. "He doesn't really talk to anyone. 'Cept _you._ What's he like?"

Jaming mentally braced himself. He hated it when people talked about him! And he had never been able to cure himself of the habit of listening in on their conversations, because this had actually saved his life a few times in the past.

Meredith peeled a banana and took a bite out of it before replying. "Why don't you make an effort to get to know him, and find out for yourself?"

"I dunno. He kinda gives me the creeps!" Donny shuddered.

"Why is that?"

Jaming really didn't want to hear anymore, but he found that he couldn't get his legs to obey him and carry him away from there.

"Well...You mean he doesn't creep _you_ out at all? I mean, he don't exactly look..." Donny was incredulous, and if his eyes could be seen under his bangs they would have been wide.

"_Spiders _creep me out. By the way, I still owe you for chasing me around with a jar of the nasty things." And with that, she snatched Donny's hat from his head and ran off with it.

"Hey, no fair!" the boy growled before chasing after her, laughing as she almost let him take his hat before holding it out of reach again. "This is no way to treat a child!"

"Pff..." Meredith tossed him his hat and rolled her eyes. "Ever heard the phrase, 'don't judge a book by its cover'?"

Donny hastily jammed his hat back onto his head, hiding his 'hat hair' from view. "Sure. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Plenty," She tossed her banana peel into the ferns, unaware that it nearly landed on Jaming's head. "Give him a chance before you slap a label on him, will you?"

Jaming stared at the mango in his hands as Meredith and Donny went their separate ways, uncertain how he should feel about what he had just overheard. Donny's spoken thoughts were no surprise to him, really. It was hardly unusual for a stranger to be wary of him, and children nearly always seemed to fear him.

He remembered one time when a little girl had bumped into him and lost her balance, and he recalled how she had screamed and cried when he instinctively reached out to prevent her from falling. She had run away, yelling about the 'bad man' who tried to grab her. It was a simple misunderstanding that got blown way out of proportion, and it was all due to his physical appearance. In fact, that incident had touched off a riot of sorts, and he had been forced to leave that town. That was five years ago.

Donny didn't seem to be _afraid_ of Jaming, but it was clear that he didn't know what to make of him, either.

And Jaming didn't know what to make of Meredith's words to Donny. It hadn't sounded like pity, but he couldn't think of a single good reason why she would like him at all, let alone defend him.

_'I wonder if she likes mangoes.'_

* * *

Jaming was in the process of peeling and slicing the mango when Meredith joined him at the construction site.

"What are you up to?" she called, closing the distance between them. She hadn't seen him prepare food before, and she wondered where he had learned how to get a mango ready for eating.

"Interpretive dance," he deadpanned, offering her a mango slice.

"Well, ask a stupid question," she snickered, taking the slice and biting into the tender flesh of the fruit. "Wow, you picked a good one!"

"That's a relief. I wasn't sure what to look for, so I just grabbed a soft one."

They sat on what would one day be a porch, eating mango slices and swatting at beach mosquitoes. Jaming wasn't looking at her, but that was nothing new. He had a bit of a problem with making eye contact unless he was angry, but she simply accepted it as a part of who he was.

"You're pretty quiet, today," Meredith commented, sucking mango juice from the ends of her fingers, which he studiously tried not to notice. "Everything all right?"

"I...have a bit of a confession to make."

She looked over at him, her eyebrows raising slightly in an invitation for him to continue.

"I was looking for mangoes nearby when you were speaking with Donny. I overheard you, and I didn't walk away."

"In other words, you eavesdropped," Meredith knitted her brows.

"I heard my name, and I froze. I just...didn't want it to be a secret."

She picked up another piece of mango, turning it in her hands. "I should probably be pissed, but I've actually done the same thing once or twice."

Jaming seemed a little surprised by her use of language, but he was even more surprised that she wasn't angry. "Well...I apologize for that. But...there's something I can't quite figure out."

"What is that?"

Jaming had lost his appetite, and subtly nudged the plate of mango slices in her direction. There were only three left, and he didn't want them. "Why _do _you talk to me? Why do you want to help me with the garage? I haven't done anything to deserve it, and I-"

"Okay, stop."

Jaming shut his mouth and looked away. He regretted ever bringing it up!

"I talk to you because I like you, and because I want to. And don't ask me _why_ I like you, because I don't always know why I feel something. I just know when I do. And as for helping, that's easy. This is a small town, so we help each other out. Otherwise we wouldn't be able to function as well as we do. The others would probably help you too, if you would just ask them."

Jaming got up and moved off a few paces. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets and kept his back to her, feeling quite overwhelmed and not wanting to embarrass himself any further. He didn't claim to be the manliest of men, but he didn't want to kill his pride completely by crying in front of her! Neither of them spoke for several minutes, and the urge to weep soon passed.

Meredith finished the last mango slice, wiped her hands on her pants since he wasn't looking, and got to her feet. "So...are we going to tackle that north wall, or what?"

"Actually," he turned to her, and he was smiling a little. "I thought we might go for a walk instead. Work can wait until tomorrow, and I'm actually starting to have _dreams_ about it. That's usually a sign that it's time for a break."

She got up and walked over to join him, but they kept about a foot of space in between them as they set out. "I know what you mean!"


	5. Chapter 5: Blue Mood

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 5: Blue Mood"

Work on the garage was going by very quickly now. Jaming and Meredith had only spent a few days working on it so far, but already it was almost time to begin work on the roof. Jaming was rather secretive about this part of the project, and he had already made her aware that he would prefer to work on _that _part of the garage by himself. He worried that she might take offense, but she had only responded with a shrug and said that she needed to get back to her table in a few days anyway so that she wouldn't lose her place on the boat.

"Do you think you're going to paint the exterior when it's finished?" Meredith asked one day as she and Jaming sat on the doorstep of the garage and enjoyed a pitcher of lemonade.

Jaming studied the condensation forming on the ice-cold outside of his glass before holding it to his forehead to cool himself off a bit. "I haven't decided yet." Actually, he hadn't even _thought _of it. "Why? Do you have a color in mind?"

"Me?" she raised an eyebrow and smirked. "It's _your_ garage. What color do you like?"

"Not blue." The words were out of his mouth before he realized it, and he bit his lip. He even knew why he had said them; earlier that day, he had heard a tourist refer to him as 'the ugly blue weirdo', and his mood had changed to match his skin and hair. Couldn't he even buy food without being insulted?

Meredith frowned a little and topped off her glass. He was frequently down on himself, she noticed, and it was beginning to annoy her. Self-hatred wasn't exactly attractive! Then again, she had a lot of experience with it, and she knew it wasn't always a matter of saying 'I just won't do it anymore'. Many times, it just wasn't that easy. "I don't know; I've always liked blue. It's my favorite color. Green is a close second, though."

Jaming looked at her out of the corner of his eye, still pressing his glass to his forehead. "You wouldn't like it so well if you had to wear it all the time."

She met his gaze curiously, and his eyes immediately flicked away from hers. "I guess it hasn't been easy for you, has it?"

"I think I'll paint it green. I liked that suggestion." He was speaking too quickly, and he realized that an idiot would be able to see right through him. He lowered his glass to the porch beside him, wiped the condensation from his forehead, and folded his hands. "Ehh...no, I guess it _hasn't_ been easy. I didn't intend to bring it up, though."

Jaming didn't want to make himself seem like a victim. Not everyone he met treated him like a sideshow freak. The trouble was, those who didn't usually tended to ignore or patronize him. He wasn't used to someone just _talking_ to him, and he wondered if he ever would be. And he most definitely wasn't used to liking someone, and wanting to be liked in return! He hadn't meant to let that comment about his dislike of the color blue slip out. Or _had_ he?

"Well...if you decide you want to talk about something, you know I'm not going to go out and blab it to the whole town, right?" She smiled. "It won't leave this porch."

_'The ugly blue weirdo...'_

"Meredith...do you..." Jaming said something else, but he mumbled it so quietly that, even sitting less than two feet away, she couldn't make it out.

"Do I what?"

He had angled his body so that he was facing away from her, and he leaned forward so that his folded arms rested on top of his thighs. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"What is it?" She lightly touched his shoulder, but didn't keep her hand there. She had observed that he usually didn't like to be touched, but that he sometimes didn't seem to mind. In this case, he didn't react to it at all, which meant it could be one or the other.

"Do you think that I'm ugly?" Gods, he couldn't believe he had just asked her that!

"No."

Well, what did he expect her to say? Of course she wouldn't say yes to such a question! No one answered these questions truthfully!

"Someone said something to you today, didn't they?" Meredith guessed, and her voice had taken on a subtle edge. Was she actually angry on his behalf?

Jaming took a sip of his lemonade, as much to buy himself a few seconds of time as to calm himself, and shook his head. "Not _to_ me, but I've got very good hearing. Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it _does _matter!"

He looked back at her, startled. Twin roses bloomed in her cheeks, and he saw that she really _was _angry. He stared at her, struck speechless by this unexpected development.

"Do you know what _I_ think is ugly? People who try to make _themselves_ feel good by tearing others down. You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry that happened to you." And she left it at that. Picking up her glass, she turned her eyes to the far-away docks and downed it by half.

Jaming turned so that he wasn't half-facing away anymore, but he wasn't looking at her now. "Thank you, Meredith...but I'm afraid it's a little more complex than that. I..."

Meredith turned her head to look at him, but she didn't interrupt.

Jaming couldn't just open his mouth and come right out with it. Not when it came to something like this. His appearance was an issue that hadn't just affected _him,_ but had made it necessary for his parents to move several times because school just wasn't working out. More times than he could count, he had been teased, beaten, and made to feel absolutely worthless. His childhood was a time of fear, and his adulthood was a time of bitterness and revenge. Now, cut loose from just about everything he had known up until that point, he finally met someone who actually gave him a chance.

Friendship was a concept that was almost completely foreign to him, and now that he had experienced it, he was afraid to confide in her too much for fear that she would later discard him and use whatever he told her against him. And yet, his loneliness was so profound that he was almost compelled to reach out to her for _something._ Was it help? Acceptance? Or just a nonjudgmental ear? It was probably all of that.

"People are afraid of me because of the way I look. Small children cry when they see me. Women will cross the street to avoid me, as if I'm some highwayman. People treat me like I'm _contagious._" Jaming sneered bitterly as he held his hands in front of his eyes and looked at them, turning them to look at the backs, then at the palms before curling them into fists and slamming them down on his thighs. "The teeth I could live with, but human beings are not _blue,_ and yet I _am_ human. No one else has blue skin. I'll _never_ be able to just melt into a crowd, or even buy a loaf of _bread_ without attracting unwanted attention! Damn it, I just want to be _normal!_"

Meredith nodded, seeming not the least bit frightened. "You're angry. Justifiably so. And you know something? That's a very normal thing to want."

Jaming was a little out of breath, and the tense knot that had been in his chest since that morning was replaced by an odd sort of relief. He had vented his anger and sadness in the past, but there had been no one around to witness it. Friendship was new to him, a bit frightening, and rather pleasant. And, as he had just learned, having someone validate his feelings of hurt and frustration felt pretty damn good!

On the other hand, losing control like that was rather embarrassing. "I, uh...I'm sorry you had to witness that. I suppose I have a bit of a temper sometimes."

Meredith innocently raised her eyebrows and poured herself some more lemonade. "I don't know what you're talking about. I thought we were discussing paint."

Two days later, he painted his garage green.


	6. Chapter 6: Sandcastle

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 6: Sandcastle"

"What is she up to now?" Jaming muttered to himself as he watched Meredith from a distance. He hadn't been expecting her that day, but he was disappointed just the same when she didn't drop by for a visit. It wasn't as if they saw each other every day, though. Like him, she had the occasional mood where she didn't really want to interact with anyone, so he just accepted it when this happened and went on with his day.

She didn't seem to be in a bad mood, though, from what he could see. In fact, she looked like she was having a lot of fun as she knelt in the sand with Donny and Claire.

Jaming moved a little bit closer, and when Claire shifted to the side a bit he saw that they were putting the finishing touches on a sandcastle.

_ 'Well, of all the silly, pointless activities.'_ Jaming frowned, and he was dismayed when he realized that he was _jealous _of Donny and Claire for getting to spend time with Meredith while he was left to while away the afternoon by himself. Why _shouldn't_ she spend time with other people?

It never occurred to him to simply walk over and say hello. Donny didn't seem to think much of him one way or the other, and Claire seemed to be intimidated by him. If going over there were to cause them discomfort, Jaming himself included, why do it at all?

Jaming looked down, swallowing his bitterness where it sat in his stomach like a rock, and he was just turning to head back into the jungle when he heard Claire cry out as if startled. He cringed, thinking that _he _had caused that, but when he looked he saw that the wind had snatched her wide-brimmed sun hat from her head and sent it blowing straight towards him.

Given no time to think, Jaming simply reacted. He shot out a hand and caught the hat as it sailed past him, dusted it off a bit, and reluctantly approached the trio. Sure enough, Claire's eyes were wide.

"Hey, Jaming!" Meredith waved, "I know you've met Donny before, but have you met Claire yet?"

Claire glanced back at Meredith, almost in a panic, but when she looked back at Jaming her expression was tentatively friendly. "He-hello..."

"We've not spoken before," Jaming replied, offering Claire her hat with a small nod. "Your hat, Miss."

Claire stared at the hat just long enough for things to become awkward, then she hesitantly took it and returned the nod with a little smile. "Thank you. I've seen you in town before, but I didn't want to bother you."

Jaming suspected that this was only half true, but at least she hadn't run away screaming yet. "I'm not bothered. I do have a question, though, for the three of you."

"You always so formal, Mister?" asked Donny, looking like he wanted to laugh.

"Donny..." Meredith warned under her breath.

Jaming ignored Donny's remark, and forged ahead with his question. "What is the point of building a sandcastle? I've never understood it. They serve no real purpose, and they don't last; the tide will wash it away soon. All that hard work for nothing..."

"Hey, don't diss the sandcastle!" Donny now looked like he was spoiling for a fight, but he couldn't hold the expression for long, and he snickered. "The point is, it's _fun!_ Don't you do anything for fun?"

"Certainly," Jaming was mildly offended. "but I would be rather disgruntled if I spent hours making something, only to have it destroyed by something out of my control."

Claire looked down, and Meredith was resolutely decorating one of the parapets with scallop shells. Realizing that he may have offended them, Jaming tried to rephrase it.

"It's quite impressive, really. It just seems a shame to see it destroyed."

Meredith looked at him, and smiled to show that she understood him. "We can always build it again. And the next one might be even better."

Jaming blinked, wondering if she knew more about him than she was letting on. He hadn't told her about his past, nor had he told her about his many failures. Even so, she seemed to sense that something had gone wrong along the way, and that metaphor couldn't have been unintentional! He wasn't sure if it made him uncomfortable or not.

Claire peered up at him from under the brim of her sun hat, and she seemed to come to a decision. "Maybe you'd like to join us?"

"Yeah," Meredith chimed in, "You might enjoy it."

Claire elbowed Donny, who shrugged as he concentrated on digging out a moat. "I guess so, but don't knock down _this_ bit; I made that."

Jaming backed up a step and clasped his hands behind him. "I don't think so. I'll get sand on my trousers."

"So?" the boy snorted, and judging by _his_ attire, that sort of thing wouldn't bother him at all. "It'll brush off."

Meredith made some sort of motion that Jaming couldn't see, and Donny let the matter drop.

No, he didn't belong in this little group. Meredith knew them from Palm Brinks, so it was only natural that she would want to interact with them. Why should she be held hostage just because he didn't really speak to anyone else? They were merely inviting him to be polite, and he responded the way he thought they wanted him to. "I have work waiting on me. Thank you just the same."

Meredith watched him turn to go, and she wondered if Jaming had seen her gesture and misunderstood it. She had only wanted Donny to stop giving him a hard time. She didn't mean she wanted Jaming to leave! She knew that Jaming didn't socialize much, but that didn't mean he never got lonely! "Jaming, wait a minute."

Jaming hesitated before turning back to face her, then his eyes got huge. He pointed behind them and called out, "Heads up!"

Donny shot to his feet. "Crap!"

Claire scrambled to get out of the way. "Eek!"

Meredith, whose left foot had fallen asleep, took a bit too long. The tide came rushing in, soaking her from the hips down and reducing their sandcastle to a pile of mush. She gave a startled shriek as she struggled into a standing position, and she was laughing as she limped a few feet away. "Whoa, that's _cold!_ _Oh,_ that's cold!"

Donnie pointed at her and his braying guffaw carried all the way to the docks. "Jeez, Meredith, you look like you peed your pants!"

Jaming knew that he wouldn't be at all amused if this had happened to him, and he glared angrily at Donny.

Meredith only laughed again and warned, "Hey, don't laugh _too_ hard, otherwise _you _might do it for real!"

"I wish we'd gotten a picture," Claire said wistfully, then blushed when Donny laughed even harder. "Of the _sandcastle,_ Donny, the _sandcastle! _Pervert..."

"Hmph..." Jaming shook his head, unable to keep a smirk from his face. "How juvenile. Oh! What's this?"

One of the seashells was moving, and Jaming bent to pick it up. He nearly flung it away, though, when a pair of eyes on stalks poked out along with a pair of claws and a cluster of legs.

Meredith gently took it from him, still chuckling. "Just a hermit crab. Don't drop him."

Jaming made a face. Creepy-crawlies! "Ugh."


	7. Chapter 7: Music

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 7: Music"

Rainy days in Veniccio were generally met with gloomy humor by the townsfolk, but not by Jaming. He always bared as little of his blue skin as possible to avoid being stared at anymore than usual, so he couldn't have cared less about being unable to enjoy the water. His garage provided more than adequate cover from the weather, and the raindrops striking his roof had a 'white noise' effect. He was usually in a state of low-level anxiety, but not today! If anyone asked Jaming what he thought of this nasty weather, he would have been able to say with complete honesty that he _liked _it.

Jaming had nothing to repair, and he didn't have the materials he needed to begin work on a new platform, so he decided this was the perfect day to take it easy and tune his new guitar. Well, new to _him_ anyway; he had bought it second-hand (possibly third-hand or fourth!) on one of the shop boats, and despite being in very good condition, it was probably older than _he_ was.

He hadn't picked up a guitar since he had used one to control the Shigura. A long time ago, it seemed! Had it really only been few weeks? That one was broken, and without the desire to control anyone against their will ever again, he had no use for it. He wouldn't have kept it at all if he wasn't already so attached to it.

It had been even longer since he'd played a guitar that wasn't electric, and he was surprised that he still remembered how to tune one. It took him nearly an hour to get it to the point where he was satisfied with how it sounded. In a sort of private joke with himself he started banging out a blues tune, and before long he was bobbing his head and tapping his foot in time with the music. "You're no 'Marionette', but you'll do."

Jaming wasn't sure how long he had been playing before he realized he had an audience, but he spotted a shadow on the floor when he happened to glance up, and he realized that Meredith was standing just inside the doorway. Then Jaming remembered that he had left the door propped open to let in the cool air that came with the rain.

Her arrival wasn't unexpected, since she usually dropped by when the shops were closed and they were most definitely closed on rainy days, but he had been so involved in his music that he forgot all about that! So startled was he that he struck a sour chord, winced at the sound, and moved to put the guitar away. "Meredith! Hello...I was just, um...Sorry."

Meredith smiled, amused. By his reaction, anyone would think he had been caught doing something inappropriate! "For what? You're pretty good. I liked it!"

"Oh?" he paused just short of putting the guitar away, his walls coming down a little. "I was just playing around. It's nothing."

"Well, sorry if I scared ya. I saw your door was open, and thought I'd stop in to say hi. Maybe this is a bad time?" Meredith looked behind her, out into the rain she had just escaped.

She was soaked. This never seemed to bother her, but Jaming realized he was being a bad host by letting her stand dripping wet in his doorway. "No, come on in. I'll get you a towel for your hair. Why were you out in the rain?"

"I was looking for supplies further inland, and I got caught by surprise. Thanks," She accepted the towel and sat down beside him when he gestured for her to do so by patting the bench.

"What sort of supplies?"

"Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Jaming stared at her for a beat before chuckling and shaking his head. "Fine. As you would say, 'all right, keep your secrets'." He began to play the guitar again. "So, do _you_ play?"

"Not the guitar," she responded with a shrug, drying her hair.

"So, you _do_ play an instrument!" Jaming was intrigued. "Which one?"

"Ehh..." Meredith looked embarrassed, almost seeming to hide in the folds of the towel. "I used to play the tin whistle when I was a kid."

"Tin whistle?"

"Yeah, it's sort of like a recorder, but slimmer. I haven't picked it up in years, though," In an odd sort of role reversal, she avoided his gaze while he tried to learn more about her.

"How come?" He could tell she was bashful about the subject, and he wasn't sure why, but he was enjoying this. Not her discomfort, but the fact that he intuitively knew that she trusted him enough to tell him anyway. It felt nice to be in this position for once!

"Well, I used to get teased about it, so I eventually put it aside and refused to practice anymore. I probably forgot most of what I knew."

Jaming frowned as the tempo of his playing slowed. "Did you enjoy playing it?"

She hesitated, then shrugged. "I guess so. Why?"

"It just seems a shame. I'll bet if you tried again, you could pick up where you left off. You might have to re-learn a great deal of it, but if I understand how memory works, it's all still hidden right up here," Jaming palmed his guitar pick and pointed to her forehead, stopping just short of making physical contact before playing a different tune on his guitar. "Why don't you give it a go?"

"I don't know. When I get obsessed with a new hobby, I start to neglect my work. I'm not sure if I can risk it right now."

Jaming was a little disappointed, because having someone to relax and play music with would be a novel experience. When it came to obsessions, though, he was exactly the same, so he could hardly fault her for that. "Perhaps another time, when you aren't so busy?"

"Maybe," She was actually tempted, but she wasn't sure if she could ever play for an audience after being taunted about the tin whistle not being a 'real' instrument. Not even an audience of one! She shook off these unpleasant thoughts and changed the subject. "Is the guitar the only instrument you play?"

"Yes," he shrugged, strumming a few chords before tuning the guitar a bit more. These strings must be too old if it wouldn't stay in tune for very long. He repeated a chord a few times to make sure it sounded right, then nodded to himself. "but there's more than one type of guitar. Here, would you like to try?"

"If I did, it wouldn't sound much like music!" she laughed, but took the guitar when he held it out. She held it more or less like she had seen him hold it, but she wasn't sure how to begin. "Um..."

"Here, put your fingers like this," he said, briefly taking it back to demonstrate finger placement on the frets. When she copied him, he nodded his approval. "Good. Now, take the pick. Don't move your fingers, now. All right, now do this."

Meredith watched him make a strumming motion on an invisible guitar, and hesitantly imitated him. To her surprise, not only did it sound musical, but it was the exact same chord that he had just played. "Hey!"

He grinned smugly as he took back the guitar. "Congratulations. You've just played your first chord."

"Do you sing, too?" she asked.

He shook his head 'no', but he could feel his cheeks heating up with a blush. He wasn't sure if he would ever be comfortable enough around _anyone_ to sing in front of them! Meredith might be the exception, but it was a bit too soon for that!

She smiled, unable to resist the urge to gently tease him. "Only in the shower, huh?"

He took her discarded towel from the work bench and made as if to swat her with it, but stopped just sort of doing so. The smirk he wore was one of amused exasperation. "I'm _warning_ you, lady! You'd better watch yourself!"

Meredith flung up her arms to shield herself and gave a small scream, laughing as she leaned away. "Okay, okay!"


	8. Chapter 8: Headstrong

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 8: Headstrong"

Jaming really _did_ have the best intentions when he marched across the beach to give Meredith a piece of his mind. The Ocean's Roar Cave was certainly no children's playground, and when he saw her stroll out of there as calmly as if she had just been to the shops, he unquestionably lost his temper. If he had simply stood very still for about ten seconds and taken a few deep breaths, things might not have gone so badly.

"Oh, hi Jaming," she greeted him, but her mind was clearly on other matters, and she didn't pick up on his mood until he spoke.

"What the hell were you doing in there?" he growled, pointing back the way she had come.

Meredith came to a halt, startled, then her face began to grow very flushed. She put her fists on her hips and turned to face him fully. "Would you like to rephrase that?"

Her reaction, just short of being aggressive, brought him up short. He had the presence of mind to realize that he had _completely_ botched his approach, resulting in her squaring off with him as if daring him to continue to use that tone with her. The first word that flitted through his anger-heated brain was '_Oops_', and this was quickly followed by, '_Danger! Danger!_'

Jaming went on to explain, his voice less harsh but still a bit too loud, "That cave is _dangerous._ Do you know what sorts of creatures live in there?"

Meredith's hard expression didn't soften much, but she lowered her fists from her hips and adjusted her pack. She was normally very reasonable, but his confrontational approach had flipped a switch in her. Being yelled at was one of her few big triggers, and though Jaming didn't know it, the fact that she had even stayed to hear him out spoke volumes about how much she liked him. "I didn't see anything more ferocious a couple of sea snails. It seemed safe enough to me."

"Things that _seem_ safe and things that _are_ safe are two different things," he said with exaggerated patience as he gestured towards the cave again. "You could be _killed_ in there!"

It really wasn't _what_ he said to her that got under her skin. It was _how_ he said it. She wasn't a child, and she resented being scolded like one! "Yes, slimed to death by sea snails! Excuse me."

Jaming goggled at her as she pushed past him, no longer at a leisurely stroll, but at an angry march that all but mirrored his own from when he first approached her. He was uncomfortably reminded of their first meeting, when he had snapped at her for approaching his broken platform, and she had snapped right back. In both cases, he had tried to warn her of danger, but the way he had gone about it was obviously the wrong way!

He jogged to catch up with her, and struggled to match her pace. "I'm serious, Meredith! Look, I shouldn't have raised my voice like that, but-"

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed, neither looking at him nor slowing down. "You don't have to _yell_ at me to get me to listen to you. In fact, getting yelled at will probably just make me do the opposite."

Jaming could feel his anger rising again, but he held it back. She _did _have a point about his temper. Although, if she could see how red her face was at that moment, she would probably agree that he wasn't the _only_ one with a temper! "Meredith, please, I am _asking _you to listen to me."

She stopped abruptly, causing him to have to backtrack a few steps. "I'm listening."

Yes, she was listening in the sense that she was ready to hear what he had to say, but would she actually _listen?_ "I've been in that cave before, and yes, some of it is fine. But there are things in there that won't hesitate to kill you."

"There _were._ Those caves were cleared out, from what I hear."

"That doesn't mean that they won't fill up again. Monsters are _drawn_ to those places, much like we're drawn to the places we're drawn to. I know I lost it back there, but I had a good reason." Jaming was venturing into dangerous territory again, but it was danger of a different sort. He didn't like leaving himself too open, and what he admitted next veered uncomfortably close to his limit. "I don't want anything to happen to you. And, well...when I saw you come out of there, I could see it happening in my head."

Meredith folded her arms and looked off to the side at nothing at all. She no longer looked angry. In fact, she looked rather thoughtful.

But she didn't say anything.

Jaming squirmed for a moment, then cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked away as well. "Ahem. I apologize for yelling at you."

She sighed heavily through her nose and shrugged. "Forget it...I kinda flew off the handle myself, so...I'm sorry, too."

"Just...please, don't go in there again."

Another shrug. "I'll take it into consideration."

Jaming wasn't sure if he felt relieved or not. She hadn't given him a definite answer, but their nerves were still raw and smarting from their little spat, and the answer he got was probably the best one he could hope for at the moment. Would she stop being his friend after this? "Do you plan to come by later? I could teach you some more chords..."

"Not today," Meredith adjusted her pack, and seashells as well as some other odds and ends clattered against each other inside it. "I need to get a jump on these necklaces. I've got almost no back-stock."

"Oh..." he nodded, interpreting her answer as confirmation that she now despised him. "Well...goodbye, Meredith." He turned and began to trudge inland, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, when she spoke again.

"How does tomorrow sound?"

His relief didn't show on his face, but his spirits lifted somewhat. "That sounds good."


	9. Chapter 9: Cupcakes

"Getting to Know You"

_Author's Note:__ Have you ever seen two people who might or might not be flirting? Sometimes, they might not even realize that they're doing it at all! _

"Chapter 9: Cupcakes"

When Claire offered to pay Dr. Jaming thirty Gilda to fix her hair dryer, he almost felt bad about taking her up on it. If he hadn't needed the money, he might have refused payment altogether. It would be extremely easy to fix, and it probably wouldn't take him more than fifteen minutes. As he disassembled it at his work table, there was a knock at the door. "Come in, Meredith."

The door opened, and Meredith stepped in and shut it behind her. "How did you know it was me?"

"You're the only one who visits," he replied, carefully picking off the dust that had clogged the dryer and caused it to stop working as well as it should. "What have you been up to?"

"Cupcake."

Jaming raised an eyebrow and turned to give her an odd look, his monocle whirring as it automatically adjusted to focus on her. "What did you just call me?"

Meredith snickered, shaking her head. "No, no...I _brought_ you a cupcake. Granny Rosa is handing them out at the docks. I thought I'd grab you one before they were all gone."

Jaming looked at what she held out for him to take, and laughed a bit nervously. It was a vanilla cupcake with white buttercream frosting. She held one in her other hand, and he guessed that the second one was for her. "Oh! Thank you, I appreciate it. You can just, um...set it down anywhere, and I'll eat it later."

_'An actual cupcake. That makes a little more sense!'_

Meredith put the cupcake down at the other end of the table, and leaned over to peer at the mangle that lay before him. "So, what did the hair dryer do to annoy you?"

He grinned up at her and pointed to his head. "Have you _seen _my hair? It's a travesty!" He chuckled, turning back to his work and trying not to notice how closely she was standing. "No, it's Claire's. She said it won't blow out hot air anymore. With this much dust contamination, it's no surprise."

"Can you fix it?" Meredith asked him, straightening up again, and failing to notice that he looked both relieved and disappointed.

"Hah! 'Can I fix it', she says," he chortled as he began to reassemble it. "Nothing simpler!"

"Pff, no conceit in _you, _is there?" she snorted.

"I'm not conceited," he protested good-naturedly, reaching for the screwdriver. His hand settled on top of hers, and he jumped a bit as he saw that she had grabbed it before he could. He let go of her hand as if it had burned him. "Uh..."

"Heh, sorry. I was just going to hand it to you," She held it out, her cheeks reddening as she avoided his gaze.

Jaming felt his own cheeks heating up, and he was grateful that she was looking away. He cleared his throat and accepted the screwdriver, taking it from her without touching her. "Thank you."

Meredith moved off and sat down on one of the wooden stools to eat her cupcake. "Anyway...I was wondering if I could buy some hunks of copper from you. No one else seems to have them."

Glad for the change of subject, Jaming relaxed a little and tightened the screws that held the two halves of the hair dryer's plastic exterior together. "How many do you need?"

"Three. I want to turn them into a spool of wire for my bracelets."

"Oh, well, I've got loads of copper wire already. In that cabinet over there. You can just take what you need." He gathered up the dust bunnies he had extracted from the hair dryer's fan and dropped them into his waste basket.

"Oh, thanks!" She got up to look. "What do I owe you?"

"Nothing," He plugged in the dryer and tested it, then nodded as it immediately sent out a jet of hot air.

"No, I can't just take it for _nothing!_" she protested, then added, "But I can't seem to find it."

Jaming came over to help her look just as she turned to face him, and when he moved to step around her she moved to get out of his way. Unfortunately, she moved in the wrong direction, and ended up blocking him anyway. They moved the other way, then back, in a sort of impromptu dance before they were both laughing awkwardly.

"_You_ stay put; _I'll_ move," Meredith told him.

"Roger!" He saluted as she moved to stand behind him, and when she could no longer see his face he grimaced.

_'Who the flipping hell says 'Roger' these days? Ugh...'_

"Thank you for the dance," she chuckled, and out of sight from him she winced. _'Real smooth, Meredith...Ugh.'_

"Mm-hmm," he muttered before scratching his head. "Huh...You know what? You're right, it isn't in here. I remember, I recatalogued my supplies in alphabetical order. I might just have to go back to my old system. It only made sense to _me,_ but at least I knew where everything was!"

Jaming closed the cabinet and turned, raising an eyebrow at Meredith as if asking her if she wanted to go another round. She stood aside and made a sweeping 'after you' gesture, which prompted him to laugh again. He noticed that he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. He shook his head and went over to another cabinet.

Sure enough, there were six large spools of copper wire on the bottom shelf. "Ahh, yes. Here they are. And since you wouldn't let me pay for the bag I bought from you before, I'm not going to let you pay me for _this, _so there!"

He plunked it down on the work table and folded his arms with a smirk, which she returned as she took the spool and stuffed it into her pack.

"Actually, you just paid me in copper wire. You win."

He swaggered off to enjoy his cupcake. "I _always _win."

"No conceit, huh?"

A moment later, Jaming noticed that she was staring at his mouth. "What?"

"Um...You've got a little something. Just there," Meredith touched her own mouth to demonstrate, but of course he brushed the wrong spot. "No, other side."

"Oh?" Jaming nearly got it, but without a mirror it was hard to tell.

"Here, I'll get it," she told him.

Jaming instantly froze, but he didn't object as she brushed a dollop of frosting from the corner of his mouth. He swallowed hard as she backed off and sucked the frosting from her thumb, and as his heart thundered in his chest he wondered if he was about to have a panic attack.

Then the moment passed as suddenly as it arrived, and she was telling him that she had to get back to work. "Yes, and I'd better return this hair dryer to Claire. Thank you for the cupcake."

After she left and shut the door behind her, he sagged against his work table. "Whew...What was _that _all about, now?"

Jaming easily brushed aside his reaction to what she had just done by telling himself that he simply wasn't used to allowing people to breach his personal space, and that women had _always _unnerved him a little. The fact that his only friend just happened to _be_ a woman was bound to lead to the occasional moment of awkwardness, and he decided that he should try not to read too much into it.

He just wished that he could figure out why the image of Meredith licking frosting off of her thumb continued to relentlessly repeat itself in his mind's eye, making it very difficult to concentrate on his work! "If I didn't know better, I'd think she did that on purpose..."


	10. Chapter 10: Top Secret

"Getting to Know You"

"Chapter 10: Top Secret"

Jaming sat on an isolated area of the Veniccio beach, using the shadow of a large boulder to block the sun. He was sketching rapidly, the tip of his tongue poking through the gap in his teeth. So deep was his state of concentration that he didn't even realize he was doing this.

He was working on yet another platform sketch, trying to work out exactly where he had made his mistake. Or _mistakes,_ as the case might have been. No matter how he looked at it the answers eluded him, and this frustrated him to no end. He was beginning to give himself a headache!

He paused to chew meditatively on his eraser, a nasty habit of his, and he was about to resume his sketching when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Jaming quickly lifted his head to see who was coming, shutting his sketch book with a loud 'snap'. The sudden noise startled whoever it was, causing her to yelp, and he recognized the voice right away. Meredith was a little jumpy sometimes, so he had heard her make that sound before.

"Who's there? _Jaming!_ Jeez, don't do that!" she laughed, relieved. Somehow, she had managed to avoid dropping her fishing pole.

Jaming didn't bother to get up, a sure sign that he was relatively comfortable around her by then, and he even teased her a little. "Funny...People usually jump _after_ they've seen me."

"Well, y'know, maybe I'm just weird," she needled him back and approached him. "What are you working on?"

Jaming tried not to read too deeply into her comment, because if he did he might take it personally, and he knew she didn't mean it _that_ way. He moved over to make room for her to sit down, which she did after setting aside her fishing gear, but he didn't open his sketch book. "It's private, actually."

"Ah," she nodded before getting a mischievous gleam in her eye and giving him a side-long grin. "Jaming, are you drawing nudes again?"

"Wha..._N-no!_" he stammered, extremely flustered. "I don't...What do you mean _'again'_?"

Meredith waved a hand, chuckling at his reaction. "I'm sorry, I'm just kidding."

He made as if to swat her with the sketch book and began to crack up himself. "You have a dirty mind! No, these are concept sketches. For machinery."

"See, I _knew_ you were more than a handyman. That's interesting, though." Meredith picked up a random piece of driftwood and began to play with it.

"Interesting?" Jaming raised a skeptical eyebrow, half suspecting that she was bored by the topic but being polite.

"Well, sure," she nodded, "Designing your own machines? That's not something _everyone _can do."

Jaming rubbed the back of his neck and looked away to hide what he thought was a stupid-looking smile. Compliments were not something that he was used to, but he felt extremely flattered by hers, whether she meant it sincerely or not. "Most people seem to find it rather uninteresting. I thought _you_ might, too."

"Well, thanks a lot..." she snorted, flipping the piece of driftwood into the ferns.

Thinking that he had offended her, he mumbled, "No offense."

"None taken," she assured him, "I'm not interested in doing it myself, but I like to watch other people make those things."

Jaming ran his thumb thoughtfully over the faded cover of his sketchbook, retrieved his pencil from the sand, and said without looking at her, "I don't normally show these to anyone. Until an idea is patented, _anyone_ can claim it as theirs. But I think I can trust you. Would you like to see what I've been working on?"

Meredith brushed a stray tendril of hair out of her face, an action which he found strangely fascinating, and smiled at him. "Only if you're comfortable with it. I know I tease you sometimes, but I'm just trying to be funny. I'm not trying to pressure you."

"I'm not feeling pressured. I'd like your thoughts on the matter. It would be...interesting." He smirked, opening to some of his most recent sketches and handing over the book.

He felt very tense and self-conscious as she examined his drawings and notes, hoping to the gods that he hadn't just opened himself up to a boatload of ridicule. His more outlandish ideas usually made people laugh, and whether they meant it in a malicious way or not, his ego felt it every time. She wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't she saying anything?

Jaming's fingers twitched as he fought back the urge to say 'never mind' and take his book from her. He noticed that she was still on the same page, and he couldn't help but wonder why.

Finally, she shook her head slowly as if in awe. "Wow. This is _incredible._ This is that machine that was on the beach when I met you, isn't it?"

Jaming nodded as she pointed to the page, his expression giving away nothing. He couldn't help noticing that, though her nails were short as if she were a 'biter', her fingers were long and nimble. The hands of a craftswoman. _'Perhaps we should collaborate on something in the future. Something other than a garage, that is.'_ he thought to himself. Building the garage with her had been quite a lot of fun, and he felt that he wouldn't mind experiencing that camaraderie again.

"What's this word here?" Meredith tapped the page, squinting to make out his hastily-scrawled chicken scratch. "Aero...something."

He nodded again, looking troubled. "Aeroharmonics."

"Never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have," he sighed, sitting back against the boulder and folding his arms. "It's a theory of mine. I'm trying to...ah, never mind."

"Well...'aero' has to do with flight, and 'harmonics' has to do with music, so...you mean this thing flies using music?" Meredith cocked her head questioningly at him.

Jaming's mouth stretched into an impressed grin. "I see I've underestimated you. How did you know that?"

She smirked back and playfully nudged his arm with her elbow. "I was a bit of a bookworm when I was a kid. I guess I still am. You mean you can actually _do_ that? Use music to make something fly, I mean."

His smile faded, and he took back his sketch book. "Not with any kind of consistency, I'm afraid. I've only had one true success, and that one was damaged beyond repair. My efforts before that were...well..._unstable._ Sometimes I wonder..." He trailed off, depression creeping up on him like a silent, predatory beast.

"Wonder what?" she asked, concerned. He shook his head, his previous discouragement beginning to show on his face, and she frowned at him. "What is it?"

It was getting easier to confide in her, but some things would _never _be easy for him to admit. "I just wonder if I'm wasting my time. Wasting my _life._ I don't know..." he shrugged, "Just ignore me."

"Hey...Do you think you're the first person to experience a few setbacks?" Meredith lightly touched his shoulder, but removed her hand when he looked at it. He was merely surprised by it, but she thought he was hinting that she shouldn't do that. "_I_ don't think you're wasting your time. I think it's a _wonderful_ idea. And I think you can make it a reality."

"You...you do?" he blinked, feeling something in his chest that he had no name for.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, giving his arm a brisk pat before getting to her feet. "Well, I better go while the fish are still biting. See ya later."

"Yes..." Jaming agreed rather absently before he looked up and noticed that she was already walking away. "Uh...Meredith?"

"Hmm?" she turned back, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He smiled, faintly but sincerely. "Thank you."


	11. Chapter 11: Arachnophobia

"Getting to Know You"

_Author's Note:__ What happens when two people who hate spiders encounter a tarantula? A lot of arguing over who should have to 'take care of it', that's what! This takes place the day after Pau blew Jaming's cover._

"Chapter 11: Arachnophobia"

When Jaming heard someone knock briskly on the door of his garage, he was very tempted to pretend he wasn't in. His curtains were shut, and he was sitting quietly on his work bench with a small project in his hands, so he wouldn't have been seen or heard. It was probably Meredith, but there was also a small chance that it was Pau. Or worse, it could have been that Pau had broken his promise and told the people of Veniccio, and he was about to be chased out of town again.

The knock wasn't repeated, and Jaming allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he got up to peek through the curtains. It was Meredith. And she was walking away.

It was pure impulse that made Jaming open the door and call after her. "Meredith, wait a minute. Is there something you need?"

"No, I just wanted to see how you were." she explained, approaching the garage once more. "I wasn't sure after last night."

"Oh..." He nodded, drumming his fingers on the doorjamb and looking dumbly at his feet. He had stayed in his garage overnight, passing a restless night in the bed which sat at the back of the structure, and he remembered that he was still barefoot. He curled his blue toes as if to hide them from view, and he wished that he hadn't been too lazy to comb his hair.

Meredith didn't seem all that surprised at finding him a little disheveled, and she made no mention of it. Instead, she asked softly, "How _are_ you, Jaming?"

His first impulse was to wave off her concern and insist that he was fine, but he wasn't certain of his acting abilities that day. The truth was, he was _not _fine, and she already knew it, otherwise she wouldn't be standing there on his porch, looking at him the way she was. She knew the truth about his past now, and yet she still wanted to be his friend. His shame was so profound that he couldn't bring himself to look at her, and yet he didn't want her to go. He answered her quite honestly, "I've been better..."

"Mm..." She nodded sympathetically. "Listen, if you'd rather be by yourself right now, I understand. But if you want some company..."

Jaming opened his mouth to tell her she could leave, and that he didn't need anything or anyone, but he realized that he didn't _want_ her to go. Not just yet, anyway.

_'You were so worried about losing her friendship. Don't alienate her now!'_

"You can come in, if you like. I'm...not exactly _presentable, _of course, but if you don't mind it..." He looked down at his clothes, wrinkled from having been slept in. She had already seen him, though, so it was a little late to be running damage control. Barefoot, rumpled clothing, messier hair than usual. Why didn't he care about it more?

"Nah," she entered the garage when he stepped aside. "It's your space, you can dress however you like. Have you eaten yet?"

He shut the door, trying in vain to smooth out his shirt. "I don't have much of an appetite today, to be honest. You may help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator."

"No thanks, I just ate," Meredith replied, sitting down on the work bench as he sat on the bed and put on what was quite obviously the same pair of socks he wore the day before; they were crumpled in a ball beside the bed, and he looked so bashful about it that she pretended not to notice.

She was _definitely _concerned now, because he was always so fastidious about his clothing. It was almost as if he was trying to compensate for his blue skin and jagged teeth by making sure that he was otherwise very clean and presentable, and it simply wasn't like him to just let himself go like this. Still, it was only one day, and she had never seen him as upset as he was the night before. She had seen him grumpy or depressed a few times, but watching him break down and cry had almost been physically painful for her. He was no monster! Monsters, at least in the 'evil-doer' sense, could not feel remorse.

Jaming picked up his second shoe to put it on, but he froze as something furry and black poked out of the hole. Two somethings, in fact. Were they _legs?_ And in the next split second, a large black _something_ zipped out of the shoe and began to craw up his arm. Eight legs. Eight eyes. A body the size of a plum.

"_Gyeeeaaaaaaaaah!_" Jaming shrieked, swatting the tarantula off and watching it land, seemingly in slow-motion, on his pillow. He would have to boil those sheets now. He ran, wearing only one shoe, to the other side of the room. _Clop-pad-clop-pad-clop-pad!_

"What! What is it?" Meredith also shot to her feet, looking to see what he was running from.

"Oh, you've got to be..." Jaming scratched at the hand and arm that the tarantula had had the utter nerve to make contact with, wondering if he was now contaminated. "That thing was in my _shoe!_"

"_What_ thing?" she demanded, raising her voice now. She looked where he was pointing, squinted as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing, and all of the color drained from her face.

Jaming had a moment to notice with a certain curiosity that her lips were nearly _white _before she actually hid behind him. "Wh...what are you doing?"

"Oh my Gods...I'll take the banana slugs any day of the _week, _rather than deal with something like _that!_" she cried, clinging to the back of his shirt in a manner that reminded him uncomfortably of a spider.

"Get off me!" he whined peevishly, trying to free himself and keep an eye on the tarantula at the same time, which had moved so that it was sitting in the middle of the bed. Was the little bastard actually taunting him?

"Well, _get _it!" she whined back, actually tightening her grip on his shirt.

"_I'm _not going over there! _You_ get it!" He twisted, and she finally took the hint and loosened her death grip on his shirt, but she didn't remove her hands.

"No!"

"Oh, for..." He clicked his tongue, realizing that she was shaking as much as he was. Just his luck that they would _both_ be arachnophobic! "Don't you usually pick these kinds of things up? Remember that hermit crab?"

"That's not the same thing!" Meredith protested, trying to cover her fear with a show of indignance. "That was a _crab._ This is the spider from Hell!"

"_They're both arthropods!_" he shouted.

"I don't give a damn _what _they are!" she shouted back. "I'm not doing it! I will take care of almost _anything_ else; beetles, banana slugs, snakes, lizards, rats! I will even handle the odd centipede, but I will _not _deal with spiders!"

Jaming gave an involuntary shudder. None of the creatures she named were things he wished to see, much less touch. The tarantula approached the edge of the bed, and he whimpered before he could hold back the sound, but he didn't worry too much about how he sounded to her because she did the same thing at the exact same time. "That thing's the size of a chihuahua..."

"I'll never be able to look at chihuahuas the same way..." she muttered, glancing around for something they might be able to kill the tarantula with without having to get too close. "What about your blowtorch?"

Jaming gaped at her. "Are you _insane?_"

"Well, what do _you _suggest, genius?" she glared back at him, then they both quickly looked over to make sure the tarantula was still there. It wasn't!

"Where did it go?" they asked in unison before demanding of each other, "You weren't _watching?_"

"I _was,_ but you mentioned the blowtorch!" Jaming looked frantically around the room for his unwelcome guest.

"Well, _I_ was, but you were giving me the skunk eye!" Meredith shot back before grabbing his arm and pointing. "There! It's going under the bed!"

"Oh, great...I'll _never_ get it now!" he shuddered again.

"You weren't getting it _before..._" she muttered, folding her arms and looking around the room again.

"Now, _that's_ not fair!" he pointed at her, "Why is it always _men_ who have to be the bug killers?"

Meredith shook her head, knowing both that he was right and that she hadn't meant it like that at all. "It's not a man or woman thing. I just can't deal with spiders. You being the same way is just bad luck. So...what do we do now? We could leave, but it would still be there when you came back."

Jaming actually relaxed a little when she assured him that she didn't expect him to kill the spider based on the fact that he was the male and she was the female. Still, their problem remained. What was to be done about the spider? "I don't know. I might have to...Oh!"

"What?" she turned quickly to the bed, fully expecting to see that the tarantula had emerged, but it hadn't.

"Why didn't I think of this before?" Jaming laughed as he clop-padded over to a large, cylindrical object that sat near the door. He plugged it in, wheeled it over with some difficulty, and attached a large hose-like tube to the side of it.

"Is that a _vacuum?_" Meredith raised an eyebrow. "That thing's bigger than _you_ are!"

"Precisely," he grinned evilly, nodding to a shelf. "Get that flashlight for me, will you?"

Meredith did as he asked, but when she held it out to him he shook his head.

"No, here's the plan. _You_ shine the flashlight under the bed and tell me where it is. _I'll_ turn on the vacuum, and that, as they say, will be that."

"All right," Meredith shrugged, then got on her knees and directed the flashlight's beam under the bed as she leaned down to see what she could see. She slowly swept the beam from left to right, then made a face that Jaming normally would have found comical. "_Eeew, _ew, ew, ew! It's frickin' _eyes_ are glowing!"

"Blugh..." Jaming stuck out his tongue as he flipped the switch and stuck the hose attachment underneath the bed, directing it right to where she was pointing. He felt the hose jolt in his hands and heard a muffled 'Flump!' as the offending arachnid was sucked into the vacuum and shredded to what he presumed were gooey bits by the suction fan. He turned off the vacuum, stood staring at it for a moment, then decided that he might as well ham it up, since he had already thoroughly embarrassed himself. He held up a triumphant finger and announced in an exaggerated 'superhero' voice, "Our work here is done!"

Meredith switched off the flashlight, and her shoulders began to shudder spasmodically. Her head was still lowered, and Jaming couldn't see her expression. His face fell. Was she actually _crying?_

"Heh...heh heh...hee hee hee!" Meredith looked up at Jaming, and he realized that she had begun to snicker. As soon as she made eye contact with him, she lost what was left of her composure and laughed harder than he had ever seen her laugh.

"What's so funny?" he demanded, but even as he tried to be annoyed with her, he felt his mouth twitching into a smirk. Her laughter was contagious, and he covered his mouth to hide his growing smile.

"It...hahaha! The noise it made...'Thunk'! Pffhahaha!" She slapped her knee.

"Heh heh...I thought it was more like 'Flump'!" he rested his elbow on the vacuum as he tried to fight off an almighty fit of the giggles. It was a futile effort, because once he began to chuckle he found that he couldn't stop, and it wasn't long before they were both sitting on the floor, racked with gales of laughter that left them breathless.

"And-and do you realize how we must have _looked, _fighting over who would have to kill it?" Meredith managed to eke out between spasms.

Jaming _did _realize it, and he buried his face in his hands as he practically screamed with laughter. "Oh! Oh, I have tears! Hah hah hahahaaa!"

"Our-our-our work here is _done!_ Hahahaaa!" She doubled over and held her stomach with one hand and wiped at her streaming eyes with the other.

"Oh, stop it! I'm going to be sick! Heh heh!"

It took them several minutes to splutter to a stop, and Jaming actually shifted so that he lay supine on the floor with one hand pillowing his head and the other resting on his pleasantly aching belly. "Ohhh...I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard."

She sat with her back against the wall and sighed blissfully. "Neither can I! We keep _that_ up, and we'll have washboard abs in no time."

He sighed, shaking his head as he rode his endorphin high. "I don't think I have the energy!"


	12. Chapter 12: Mugged

"Getting to Know You"

_Author's Note: Trigger warning for implied violence! Most of the tourists passing through Veniccio are okay, but it's inevitable that this won't always be the case. This takes place not long after Jaming and Meredith come clean with each other about their feelings, and are still trying to figure out exactly what their intentions are. If you've read "Inventing the Future", it takes place a few days after Chapter 9. This is a long one!_

"Chapter 12: Mugged"

Walking along the train tracks had _seemed_ like a good idea when Jaming first thought of it. He needed a long solitary walk to clear his head, and this couldn't be had in town. Meredith sometimes went into the jungle for the same reason, but Jaming didn't know the land well enough to be sure he could find his way back. The train tracks, however, stayed right where they were and he could follow them home without a problem.

As the foliage on either side of the tracks parted, revealing three aggressive-looking men, Jaming silently questioned the wisdom of his decision. He halted as soon as they put themselves in his path, and braced his right foot behind his left.

The largest one, whom Jaming presumed was the leader, approached him with the unmistakable swagger of aggression. "Well, look what we have here, boys!"

The one to the leader's right looked Jaming up and down before scoffing at his appearance. "What'd you do, paint yourself blue?"

Jaming felt the old humiliation welling up in his breast, and he responded coldly, "No, this is how I look." He realized too late that it would have been smarter to simply hold his tongue.

"I don't like your attitude. But I _do_ like your jacket. Why don't you give it to me?"

The third man, who stood at the leader's left, laughed at this. "Who cares if he's blue, so long if what's in his pockets is _gold?_"

Jaming's nerves, already stretched tight from the stress of a possible attack, finally snapped. This sort of thing had happened before, and with a sick feeling of despair he realized that it would most likely happen again. If he lived through this, that is! He shifted his weight onto his left foot, pivoted on the spot, and broke into a desperate run.

"Get him!" bellowed the leader.

Jaming was more of a sprinter than a distance runner. Long before he reached the Veniccio Station his energy began to flag, and the pounding footsteps behind him began to close in. He was tackled to the ground.

A kick to the ribs. "That's for the attitude!"

A fist to the back of his head. "That's for running."

The attack might have lasted for hours, or it could have only been a few seconds. Jaming didn't know, because he was unconscious before it ended.

When Jaming came to, he was alone. Every breath was pure agony, and he wondered if any of his ribs were cracked or if they were just bruised. He sat up, hissing in pain, and staggered to his feet.

"The more things change...the more they stay the same..."

* * *

Meredith's visits were usually something that Jaming looked forward to. Today, as tried to use a piece of sheet metal as a mirror to assess the damage that was done to his face, he cringed at the sound of her knock at his garage door. He wasn't sure if it was actually her or one of the others, but he didn't want _anyone_ to see him, and he called in a voice that was distorted by his swollen lower lip, "Now's not a good time."

He grimaced at the sound of his involuntary lisp.

"It's just me," Meredith called, and Jaming could tell by her tone that she already knew something was wrong. "Pau told me he saw you come back, and he said it looked like you were hurt. Are you okay?"

Jaming's left eye, the one that wasn't too swollen to open, drifted shut. He felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Meredith was the one person who couldn't be frightened off by his occasional bouts of ill temper, and he knew that getting her to leave would be damn near impossible if she knew he was hurt.

He didn't _want _her to see him this way! They hadn't been together for very long at all, if that was even what they were. What _were_ they, really? A legitimate couple, or just good friends who happened to be cautiously interested in each other? When she saw the sort of danger he attracted, would that scare her away?

_'Given what happened, would that be a bad thing?'_

Jaming looked over at the door. What if she was put in a similar situation because of him? He looked back at the piece of sheet metal again before putting it down on his work table. "I...uh...Come in. Lock it behind you, please..."

Meredith entered the garage almost before Jaming had stopped speaking, and locked the door as he asked.

He turned to face her, holding the ribs on his left side, and tried unsuccessfully to meet her eyes. His voice came out far more harsh than he meant it to be, mostly because he was in so much physical pain. "Well? Are you satisfied?"

Meredith gasped and closed the distance between them so quickly that she startled him. She began to reach out to touch his face, but thought better of it when he flinched as if she had moved to strike him. "Dear Gods...Jaming, what _happened_ to you?"

Jaming lowered his head in absolute mortification before turning away from her. "I was robbed. Or I _would_ have been, if I'd had my wallet with me."

She dragged one of the chairs over and told him in a voice that brooked no argument, "Sit down. I'll get you some ice."

Jaming sat down, gasping sharply and holding his side more tightly. He didn't know which was worse, the injuries or the shame! "I'm fine...It's not as if I was worth looking at _before, _after all. One might almost call this an improvement."

She didn't respond to his poor attempt at a joke, at least not verbally. He didn't see it, but she bit her lip as she filled an ice pack. "Did you recognize them?"

"No...I can hardly remember what they looked like." he mumbled. "They hit me in the head, and everything's...fuzzy."

Damn, this lisp was embarrassing! He wasn't a vain man by any means, but why did they have to hit him in the face?

There was the sound of another chair scraping along the wooden floor, and he felt something cool being gently pressed against his shiner. "Ow!" Gentle or not, it hurt!

"I'm sorry..." Meredith let go of the ice pack when he reached up to hold it himself, but she tenderly stroked his arm as she sat with him. "Thank goodness you were able to walk away from it..."

She took out her handkerchief, which was clean and freshly laundered, and carefully dabbed the blood from his split lip. "Veniccio really needs a doctor."

Jaming shook his head and turned away from her. "I've been to enough of those to last me a lifetime. You don't have to be here, Meredith. I've dealt with this sort of thing before, and I've had worse."

Meredith folded her handkerchief and put it on the table. His breath came in soft, shallow gasps, and she realized that it was pride alone that kept him sitting upright in his chair. She reached out to touch his back, then stopped herself when it occurred to her that she didn't know where all of his injuries were. "Do you want me to go, Jaming?"

"I..." He put the ice pack down and stared at the wall. "I don't know."

The truth was that he _didn't _want her to leave, but he had never been in this type of situation before, and he hardly knew what to expect.

"You're holding your ribs..." she pointed out.

"Yes, I...I think I was kicked," Jaming admitted as he lowered his head onto his arms. His equilibrium was still a bit off, and his head hurt terribly. "I don't think they're broken, though."

"How can you be sure?" Meredith waited for him to answer her, and when he didn't she frowned and voiced her suspicion out loud. "Because you've had broken ribs before. Haven't you?"

"I don't want to discuss it."

"Okay," Meredith removed her pack and began to dig through it. Jaming lifted his head and glanced over at the rattling sound of a half-full pill bottle being jostled as she took it out of the pack. She held it out to him. "I take these for headaches, but they should help with the pain."

Jaming blinked his uninjured eye and squinted at the bottle before handing it back, shame-faced. "How many in a dose? I...I can't focus on the label."

"Two."

Jaming opened the bottle and dry-swallowed two of the pills before he screwed up his courage to ask her what he thought was a rather strange question. "Meredith, would you...er...I'm not being fresh, I swear...but...I can't see my own back, and that piece of sheet metal is a dismal failure as a mirror."

"You mean, you want me to look?" she asked.

"I don't mean...Never mind. I shouldn't have asked you that." Jaming stood up slowly and hobbled over to his bed to sit down. No position would be comfortable, but the softer the surface the better.

Meredith took the forgotten ice pack and brought it over to him, kneeling down so that he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look up at her. "Why shouldn't you? We know each other pretty well by now, and you want to know the extent of things. It's a valid concern."

"And an awkward question..."

"Perhaps," she shrugged, looking up at his battered face. "But who's to know, besides us?"

Jaming nodded and hesitantly unbuttoned his vest; his jacket was long gone, stolen by one of his attackers. He couldn't shake the thought that what they were doing was horribly indecent, but there was no one else to ask. No one he trusted enough for this, anyway. He hissed sharply as he slipped off the vest, and bit back a cry of pain as he tried to pull his undershirt over his head. He couldn't do it, and he buried his throbbing face in his hands.

"Jaming?"

Stifling a sob, he mumbled, "I'm sorry...I need help."

She tilted her head in sympathy, but said nothing about his admission as she sat beside him on the bed and lightly seized the back of his shirttail. "We might not have to take it all the way off. Just hold still, okay?"

No answer.

Meredith gingerly lifted his shirt, inch by inch, to look at his back. Beyond his hands, his face, and his feet that one time, she had never seen any other portion of his skin. She was pretty sure that it wasn't supposed to look like _this,_ though! The blue skin of his back was covered in ugly purple splotches, and one of them was actually in the shape of a boot print. "Oh, Jaming..."

"It's not the pain..." he whispered, and she could tell by the way his voice wavered that he was crying. "I can handle that."

"I know. It's the humiliation." She lowered his shirt again and put her arm around him, so lightly that she was barely touching him, but it was enough.

"There were three of them...I wasn't fast enough. And I'm..." Jaming took several measured breaths to steady himself. Crying wouldn't help, and at the moment it would even be painful. "This kind of thing...It's happened to me before. I think I'm jinxed!"

"Where were you when it happened?"

"Oh...well, I was..." he waved a vague hand and reluctantly told her, "They were waiting by the train tracks. I was further from town than I probably should have been."

"They were waiting to rob someone..." she said almost to herself.

Jaming nodded, sniffing a little. "I know it was unwise. 'Safety in numbers', and all that. But there have been times when the attacks...Meredith, what if someone goes after me someday because of the way I look, and _you're_ the one who gets hurt? I couldn't bear it..."

"Jaming...you're worrying about something that hasn't happened. I want you to worry about _yourself_ right now, okay?"

He looked at her, fully intending to tell her that he thought they should break up so that he wouldn't be putting her in danger, but he couldn't do it. "I...I'm sorry."

"I swear," she smiled, "If you apologize _one _more time...Here, kick your shoes off and lie down."

Jaming did as he was told, mostly because that was what he really wanted to do anyway, and he winced as he tried to get comfortable. He wasn't tired, but he closed his eyes...well, his _eye,_ anyway...and lost himself in the blessed coolness of his ice pack.

Meredith sat on the edge of the bed, letting her anger reach her face now that his eyes were shut. In her mind, she went over the things he had told her, and the seed of a plan began to sprout in her mind. It was a stupid plan, a foolish one. Dangerous, even. It was bad enough that three strangers should attack an unarmed man, but the man they attacked just happened to be someone close to her, and she was livid!

Before long her mind was made up, and she nodded to herself. "Jaming?"

"Huh?"

"There's something I have to take care of. Do you need anything before I go?"

Jaming wished she wouldn't leave, but he didn't have the energy to protest, and he slowly shook his head. "Uh-uh..."

"Okay," Meredith softly kissed his forehead and got up. "I should be back soon."

* * *

Meredith's plan was to buy one of Julia's magical armbands, preferably a Crystal Armband, and to go after Jaming's muggers herself. Milane back in Palm Brinks had sold them too, and Meredith had purchased one for self defense, but she had only ever used it for target practice. No tin can in town stood a chance against her!

It was probably just as well that things never went that far, because Meredith's temper, though not easily provoked, was legendary. And so was her recklessness when she was in a fury. As she was leaving Julia's home with a new Crystal Armband glinting on her bicep, she spotted a familiar yellow jacket on Cap's shop boat. A skinny man she didn't recognize was wearing it, and two other men, one short and one burly, stood with him.

_'That son of a bitch has Jaming's coat. Gotcha!'_

As she strode towards the boat, however, a new thought occurred to her. There were so many witnesses, and everyone who saw Jaming in town would surely recognize the coat. Cap, as the captain of his ship, was legally able to detain those men until the police could be brought in. This was so much better!

Walking right past the trio of men, Meredith headed straight for Cap and got his attention. "We have a small problem."

"What sort of problem?" Cap took his pipe from his mouth and gestured at where her table stood. "Did someone take your cash box? I keep telling you-"

"No, _I'm _not the one who was robbed. You see those three men over there?" Meredith pointed with her chin, careful not to be too obvious about it.

"Aye. One of 'em must have the same tailor as that Jaming feller. Same kind of jacket." Cap shook his head, unsure why _anyone_ would want a bright yellow jacket.

Meredith lowered her voice and leaned closer. "Not the same _kind_ of jacket. The same _exact_ jacket. Those men over there stopped Jaming just outside of town, beat the living daylights out of him, and stole his coat. Look, you can see the dirt all over the front of it."

The old sailor narrowed his eyes before whispering back, "Are you certain of this?"

"Serious as a heart attack. That jacket is one of a kind. He had it made before he ever came here. And those men attacked him."

Cap nodded. "That's all I needed to hear, luv." Turning to three burly sailors, he nodded towards the three bandits. "You see them three bilge rats over there? They roughed up our handyman and stole his jacket. As of this moment, they're in my custody. Take 'em down below so they can cool their heels a bit. And don't damage that jacket!"

"Aye, sir!"

* * *

Jaming opened his good eye when the garage door quickly opened and closed, and he struggled to sit up when he saw what Meredith had in her hand. "Is that..."

"No, don't get up," Meredith hung his coat on one of the wall pegs before coming over to sit with him again. She had completely forgotten that she was still wearing the Crystal Armband, and she only remembered when he stared fixedly at it with growing dismay.

"Meredith, you _didn't!_" he groaned.

"No, I didn't," she chuckled. "The dumb bastard and his friends were on the shop boat, probably looking for more things to take. Did you know that a sea captain is legally allowed to detain criminals who set foot on their ships?"

Jaming _did_ know that, and he nodded, but he wasn't satisfied with her answer. "You were _going_ to go after them, though...weren't you?"

"If I said 'no', would you believe me?" she quirked an eyebrow and removed the armband, turning it in her hands.

"No," he said flatly, "and I'll take that as a yes."

"Are you mad at me?" she asked.

"Oh, no..." he sighed, reaching out and taking her hand. "I just hope you weren't doing it just to get that silly _coat_ back."

"There, my secret is out," she rolled her eyes, "I'm_ totally_ in love with your _coat_."

"Heh...ow...don't make me laugh."


End file.
